Evolution Epilogue: Cycle
by RatGrl
Summary: The title says it all.


Evolution Epilogue: Cycle

By RatGrl (ratgrl127@ameritech.net)

Archive: This story is indeed my property and may be passed along and archived as long as my name goes right along with it. Just ask first, heh. 

Category: Drama

Rating: PG-13, I guess. 

Spoilers: None that I know of. 

Summary: The title says it all. 

Disclaimer: Obviously the characters of Farscape do not belong to me and never will (awww!). They do, however, belong to the Jim Henson Company and I use them humbly for my personal entertainment within this little universe of mine. The characters of Seth and Captain Lundin are of my own creation. They are not to be used without my permission. 

Author's Note: I hope you all have enjoyed the Evolution series. I'm thinking about writing more stories involving Seth so, as always, feedback is welcome. Many thanks go out to Quilt Lady for beta-reading this story and all of the previous Evolution stories. You rock! 

Now, on to the show...

The darkness weighed on her like a viscous fog, thick and choking, crowding her lungs with punctured breath. Heavy eyelids fought to push back the suffocating waves; she was drowning, she could feel it. Falling deeper and deeper, her hands clawing desperately for something to hold on to, to grip, to give her the strength to drag herself back towards the light. Her jaw opened and closed soundlessly; the loss of control, for a microt, was painfully obvious, maddening and frightening all the same. 

It can't hurt this much to be dead, she thought bitterly. It just can't. 

Frell, she hurt all over. 

A groan squeezed out of her throat. Wincing, she became painfully aware of the throbbing mass of tissue just above her hairline. Though she hadn't touched the injury, nor opened her eyes, she knew it was there, angry and swollen, its mocking voice reverberating through her skull.

No, she wasn't dead. Death didn't hurt this much.

Coughing, she groaned again, her tongue, sandpaper rough, beating valiantly against the roof of her mouth in an effort to speak. A few grunts. A hoarse cough. Giving up, she concentrated on opening her eyes instead.

And immediately awoke to Crichton's watchful, worried stare.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Sunshine," he joked, a lopsided grin splitting across his face. She didn't ask why he was there, just accepted it; somehow, she knew she would need the company.

Shifting on the medlab cot, she felt a tingling sensation run up her arm as she brushed against the warm ball curled against her side. Blinking hard once, twice, her vision still blurring, she watched as her fingers lightly reached out and touched one of Seth's rebellious locks of blonde hair.

"He wanted to stay with you. He fell asleep a few arns ago." Standing up, Crichton retrieved a glass of water, smiling slightly as he watched her gulp down the contents greedily. He took the glass from her and returned to the chair strategically placed by her bedside.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern tinging his eyes a deeper blue.

"Like dren," she croaked. He chuckled.

"Well, you should, after the crack to the head you received."

"How long was I out?"

Crichton pursed his lips, a strange look passing over his face. "Long enough to scare us."

He let out a weary sigh. "Zhaan says you have a concussion."

She dismissed the information with a stiff shrug. "How is he?" she asked, the back of her hand grazing the boy's soft cheek.

Pausing, Crichton shifted his gaze to the boy, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. "He was pretty shaken. Thought you were going to die. That's why he insisted on staying with you. Didn't believe us when we told him you would pull through."

An uncomfortable cloud of silence descended on them. Crichton moved his hand and scratched his jaw distractedly, surveying Aeryn's impassive face. Had he told her too much? He had already suspected she had little experience with children; would she be alarmed by the boy's concern? Angered by it? Would she be annoyed by his insistence on staying with her, as if he were just some parasite clinging on to her for the support she would never wish to give him?

"His name is Seth."

Confusion wrote itself across Crichton's face and his eyes widened. "Seth?"

Her eyes followed the movement of her fingers as they brushed through the boy's hair. "Yes. He told me." There was a sparkle of awe in her voice, as if she couldn't accept the unbelievable truth she had witnessed once it was spoken aloud. 

Perhaps he had underestimated her, Crichton realized with a wry grin. Perhaps he had always underestimated her—maybe that was why she always continued to surprise him, even in the gravest of situations.

"Have we decided what we're going to do with him yet?" Setting her mouth into a grim, silent line her hand stopped and rested on Seth's shoulder where Crichton's hand had previously been.

"He's staying aboard Moya, for now. Temporarily, until we can find a better place for him to be. We couldn't return him to the commerce planet—we were afraid Lundin would find him there," he replied, trying to catch a glimpse of her eyes, trying to get some sort of idea, any hint or clue, as to what she was feeling right now. 

"Lundin?"

"The Peacekeeper captain. The one who was looking for Seth."

Silence again. A muscle tensed visibly in her jaw. 

"Seth said that he—Lundin—wanted to kill him," she said evenly. Crichton sensed an under-current of anger and frustration despite the calmness of her words that both shocked and delighted him. So she wanted the boy alive. That was always a good sign.

She had come a long way.

"Any reason why?" Crichton asked carefully, remembering one of Lundin's soldiers mentioning a promotion. He clenched a fist unconsciously, suddenly feeling sick.

"I don't know."

Her hand moved down Seth's arm, gently, smoothly, resting over Seth's hand. Instinctively, his fingers intertwined with hers. A wisp of a smile crossed her features, quickly cast out by the darkness that had suddenly passed over the storm of her gray eyes.

"Crichton?" 

"Hm?"

A brief flash of raw agony broke through the thunderclouds. Hesitantly, she watched him from the corner of her eye, the question weighing heavily on her lips.

"How are children treated on your Earth?"

She refused to look at him. Refused to let him see the regret and remorse boiling within. Instead, she became hypnotized by the rise and fall of Seth's chest as he slept peacefully, nestled comfortably against her side.

Crichton regarded her, not sure how to answer her question. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes absently. "Well, theoretically, they're protected by adults. They go to school, play outside, learn about their world and everything it encompasses. Each day, they grow up a little bit more— take one step closer to becoming the person they want to be. Once they're adults, they have their own children and the cycle continues." 

Her breath caught in her throat, as if she had suddenly discovered a pain she had never known existed. It torched her face, burning brilliantly, without reservation. Her mouth tightened into a frown, her eyebrows furrowed in unnameable anguish. She closed her eyes.

"Our worlds are so different, Crichton."

He said nothing. None of his words would heal the open wounds. Nothing he could say would resurrect what she had lost.

Reaching over, he placed his hand over hers. Warmth resonated under his touch. Not just her warmth, but Seth's as well. It bathed his hand in a fire of pain and redemption. He felt the past rush under him, through him, colliding with the overwhelming unknown of the future. 

And he was confidant they would survive another day.

***

The child's hand gently took hers. The woman smiled, her silver eyes glinting brilliantly. Together, they walked, into the fire, hand in hand, until their bodies melted into one. She felt her skin fall from her limbs, felt bones and tissues disassociate, felt every particle of her being split and fuse with the white-hot blaze; their spirits swirled and soared. Playful laughter blissfully caressed her ears. She felt magnificent. Whole. Complete. 

Content. 

And though the woman knew she was dreaming, knew the harshly frigid cell would tiredly cast the vision from her memory once she awoke, knew the child was no longer a child anymore if she had even survived at all, she didn't care. Couldn't care. The sense of peace was overwhelming and she indulged in the fantasy freely. It was all she had left.

They danced on. Minds touching, the woman felt the child open up to her, blossom around her in breathtaking hues of orange and red. Their eyes met. Silver stared deeply into gray. They smiled at one another; the assurance was there, powerful and divine. 

They would meet again. Someday.

The woman felt the child's fingertips brush hers as they drifted apart. Laughter faded. The fire scattered. The child vanished sublimely into the background, gray eyes still forever smiling. 

Darkness bore down on the woman. A chill swept through her and she shivered. But she wasn't saddened; she knew the truth. And as she awoke to the harshly frigid cell, she didn't weep. There was no need to.

They would meet again.

Someday. 


End file.
